the shortest span home
by brumagris
Summary: When Hermione achieves a monumental victory and Ron can't be there, the feeling trapped under her skin has a slightly restless edge to it. (Chapter: 1/2)


the shortest span home

Returning to the crowded room, Chief Warlock Goldstein swiftly points his wand at his own throat. "Sonorus!" The tall, imposing set of him is appropriately solemn, appropriately grave as he prepares to address the assembly of wizards. "The accused, Gabriel Pyrolumus, has been found guilty of House-elf torture by means of burning spells by the 2, 002nd Wizengamot. He is hereby sentenced to eight years imprisonment in Azkaban."

Hermione's breath leaves her in a rush. All around, the crowd breaks into reaction: cheers and applause intermixed with a significant amount of stunned silence. Some people are quick to stand from their benches and leave. It's the first such ruling in the history of Magical Law. Hermione blinks, a huge smile unfurling across her mouth short seconds later. To her right, Barrister Longbottom turns before extending his hand towards her. Hermione begins shaking it but then she just pulls the man, her _boss_ , into a hug, thoroughly unable to contain herself because after what feels like over two million sleepless nights and so much slow progress… it's done.

House-elves now have legal precedents to stand on.

Hermione releases Barrister Longbottom when she hears Dot talking. Barrister Longbottom and her companion in assisting Barrister Longbottom, Terry Booth, train their attention on the House-elf's small figure. "Oh, I is so thankful Barrister Longbottom, sir, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Booth!" Dot tells them enthusiastically, her posture, like it's been for the past few weeks, straight and even slightly imperious.

Hermione can't possibly stop grinning. "I'd like to invite you for dinner to celebrate. Will you be free to share a meal with me at any point in the week? As you know, I'm good at pastas." Which is pretty much it when it comes to her cooking repertoire.

"I can always make time for a good friend," Dot tells her, which has Hermione's eyes watering.

~oOo~

* * *

More than two hours later, Hermione bites softly into her bottom lip as she looks around herself again. After accompanying Dot, Barrister Longbottom, and Terry outside, after having answered to questions from reporters, and after having greeted and shared her joy with friends, she had needed to return to the empty courtroom, wanting to go on assimilating emotions, go on convincing herself that what had happened had honestly happened. It feels like discovering magic and love all over again, she muses: being clued in to the reality that we're alive, the world is more complicated than you thought but that you can affect it, and, that, as trite as it may sound, you can help in building towards something better than what you found coming in. It's also -(and she would only confess to feeling this way under duress)-... it's... validating. She has burnt (metaphorically sometimes, quite literally some others) her eyelashes reading obscure volumes. She has either gone to or organized every march, spoken at every rally, and gone to whatever wizarding radio station would have her whenever they asked. She was first in her class and has studied every loophole that could serve further this cause. Still, there was always that little voice in the back of her head whispering, " _you_ _'_ _ll never pull it off; you're clever but not quite clever enough_ ".

At least for today, that voice has been hushed to near absolute silence.

She breathes in deeply before smiling once more, feeling like it's entirely possible to start giggling like a barking lunatic at any moment.

A pang in her stomach snaps her out of her bubbly reverie. Shoving her slippery dark robes back, she looks down at her wristwatch: it's definitely time for dinner. Which means she must go home and change before meeting Ginny, Neville, George, Luna, Terry, and other former members of the D.A. for food and drinks at Levitaserum, a great new place in Diagon Alley.

Picking up her chubby suitcase, she almost succeeds in being completely blissful. She _is_ blissful, it's just … - her happiness would be insurmountable had Ron and Harry been able to make it here for the ruling. Most of her happiest memories include Harry. Even more of her most cherished moments include Ron, so the feeling trapped under her skin has a slightly restless edge to it.

 _They need them in Alaska_ , - Hermione reminds herself, reflexively shaking her head as she turns to leave. _They need him in Alaska_ \- she elaborates, hating herself for the shiver of longing sorrow that pulses through her, her steps echoing.


End file.
